


With Teeth

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Gore, Horror, Idk man this is really fucked up, M/M, Rape, Tentacles, aliens I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chester always trusted too easily. And trusting Brad was a mistake</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Teeth

He seemed like a nice guy but, later, his parents will stand over Chester’s coffin saying he trusted too easily. And maybe he did. This is after a hitch hiker found his body by the side of the road, his limbs missing and his stomach split wide open, flies circling his rotting carcass intently.

This is after Brad.

***

Before all of this he was working at the truck stop diner for less than five dollars an hour. The point had been to save up and escape, but all he’d done is end up trapped. Already two truckers had called him a faggot and another left a fucking stinking log in the bathroom for him to clean up. So by the time the practically emaciated man wandered in wearing torn clothes that were covered in blood Chester was beyond tired.

“What can I get you?” He asks, shoving a menu into the guy’s hands.

“An ambulance.” The guy says. And with a soft sigh he collapses, his body hitting the floor silently.

***

He shouldn’t, but Chester rides in the back of the ambulance all the way into the city. The paramedics ask him questions he can’t answer, like what is this man’s name? The ratty wallet tucked in his pocket has a California driving license in it with the name Brad Delson on it and a photograph of a trim twenty year old.

They ask Chester, what happened to him?

Because even they can’t figure it out.

All over his body are half-healed wounds, as if he had been stabbed repeatedly. Each wound is perfectly circular, unexplainable.

Brad doesn’t come to until the doctors have treat his wounds and given him a drip to hydrate him. Chester watches his eyes flutter open slowly and his body shift, aching from being in the same position for so long. He wets his lips and croaks, “Who are you?”

“I’m Chester. You collapsed on my diner floor.”

“Oh.” Brad says. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. What happened to you?”

Brad laughs and stares up at the ceiling, says, “You don’t want to know.”

“I do, though. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Yeah well, I don’t want to talk about it.”

The silence that descends his awkward and eerie. Chester knows he should leave, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t have anywhere else to be. And nobody would miss him even if he did. So he sits by Brad’s bedside. Eventually he says, “So you’re from California? You’re a long way from home.”

“I’ve always been a long way from home.” Brad says, watching his drip with heavy lidded eyes.

***

When the doctors discharge him Chester asks where he is staying and Brad shrugs carelessly, says “Nowhere.”

“Want to stay with me? My couch folds out.”

“Good for you.” Brad says blankly, already walking away.

“Hey. Hey wait, I’m offering you a bed. What is your problem?”

“Nothing. So. Your couch folds out, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean. Just. If you have no place to go…I have the room, is all.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a thief or murder in your sleep.”

And Chester says, “Come what may.”

***

Brad doesn’t like beer and he doesn’t smoke. He’s never heard of The Sopranos but he really likes Nine Inch Nails’ album With Teeth so they sit on the porch listening to Trent Reznor sing as they drink Pepsi.

Chester exhales a stream of smoke into the night air and Brad watches him, expressionless. Chester catches him and says, “What?”

“Smoking causes cancer.” He says. “It can lead to lung disease and infertility. Passive smoking is as dangerous as being a smoker.”

As if the cigarette packet warnings weren’t enough. “Uh…thanks.” Chester says and stubs his cigarette out on the paving stones, flicking the butt into the grass.

“Sorry.” Brad says.

“So why are you here?”

“Because you have a fold-out-couch.”

“I mean in Arizona.” Chester says, rolling his eyes.

Brad shrugs his bony shoulders. “I don’t know. This is just where I fell.”

“So you’re like, a drifter?”

“Something like that.”

***

Chester folds the couch out and Brad smirks, says, “Very nice.”

“I know, right?” Chester beams. He throws down the spare sheets and pillows he brought from upstairs and gestures to them. “Enjoy. The bathroom is upstairs, second door on your left. Help yourself to the TV, food, drink, whatever. If you want to steal you can try but I have no money so you’d really not benefit from it. So. Good night.”

Brad watches him head out of the room before he says, “Night.” And as Chester climbs the stairs he can hear him getting comfortable on the couch.

***

It’s three in the morning when he jerks awake, a shiver running the length of his spine. He had been dreaming about bananas and cowgirls when something woke him up. A noise somewhere. Probably it’s just Brad taking a leak. So he lies back down and tries to go back to sleep.

Then there’s something on his throat.

He opens his eyes and tries to scream but his voice is smothered as something slips into his mouth. Snakes, he thinks, this is a dream about snakes. Like that shitty film where they were on the plane. But it all feels so real. And the whatever pushes down his throat and he can’t breathe.

All around him the room is pitch black and he squints to see. His eyes adjust and it’s Brad above him, his eyes all white and his mouth lined with fangs that drip saliva onto Chester’s face.

He struggles against the weight on his neck but the thing inside him only moves deeper and Chester feels himself getting faint. He bites down, hard, instinctively, and the thing recoils, Brad above him hissing in pain.

And then he realises.

Tentacles. He is dreaming about tentacles.

Brad moves back and stands at the foot of the bed, eight feet tall easily, with ten limbs protruding from his abdomen. Chester jumps off the bed and makes a dash for the door but one of the tentacles wraps tight around his ankle and yanks him back, lifting him off the floor upside down until he is face to face with Brad.

Another tentacle rips his shirt clean off his body, his boxers going next.

“Please.” He begs, his voice weak and stammering. “P-please j-just let me go.”

Brad laughs, a hysterical, monstrous laugh that leaves Chester trembling. Brad throws him onto the bed and climbs on him, two tentacles pinning down his arms and another two separating his legs.

“W-what do you w-want. I told you I h-have no money.”

“Shut up.” Brad snaps, his mouth close to Chester’s ear.

“Brad please…” He begs again, his words cut off mid-sentence as Brad closes his fangs around Chester’s ear and tugs hard, tearing the cartilage and flesh clean off the side of his head.

Chester screams in pain, his voice getting louder as a tentacle shoves into his body from between his legs. The pain is immediate and he can’t stop screaming until Brad smothers him with another tentacle. He fucks the man below him hard with his tentacle until there’s nothing but blood and shit everywhere, the stink of slime and spit.

Eventually he withdraws a little then shoves it deeper forcefully, until the tentacle comes out of Chester’s mouth, and the world goes dark.


End file.
